In Vietnam life was alive
I thought I met him
at the gates of the circus
with his Australian flavors
and Czech paints of a praise

I was realigning to wake
from the deep sleep and ache
from a long age of akashic tapes
and energies were everywhere
mystic mysteries, auras symmetries

It's as if he were to arouse an age
with stories of a very long past
an ago where old souls bid to meet
his anima would breathe the very life
and words would light streets ahead

In Vietnam life was alive
and he flew me with psychic stories
of how his life would be ordained
though the life path seemed afar
I shall remember the wind he brought